


Trick or Treat?

by Pixietails



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Gen, a little halloween tsukuzaya, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:19:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixietails/pseuds/Pixietails
Summary: You have to do something scary for Halloween, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsnotlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotlove/gifts).



> Just a quick little Halloween story that also doubles as a birthday present! Happy birthday, Liz!!

     “For the record, this is a _terrible_ idea.”

     The words came easily, quickly--only to hang awkwardly in the air as they were met with nothing but stony silence.  The atmosphere had grown tense, heavy--it was as if the the world itself knew what they were planning to do.  Excitement and trepidation coursed through him at the same time, mixing together like some strange cocktail.  His skin tingled, his fingers flexed, and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, feeling them already beginning to go numb.

     What had once been a simple idea had escalated quickly, snowballing into their current situation.  The room was dark, lit only by melting pillar candles and the ghastly green aura of the city lights.  An old blanket had been spread out beneath them along with a handful of necessary tools.  Their 'guest of honor' sat dead center, not unlike some sort of macabre picnic.

    “Hm?  But wasn’t it _your_ idea to begin with, Orihara?  Ah--I see.  You’ve finally figured out that you’re not nearly as clever as you like to pretend, isn’t that right?”

    “That’s not what I _meant_ \--”

    The flash of silver in the flickering candlelight broke Izaya’s train of thought, causing him to fall curiously silent.  When had he even given Tsukumoya control of the knife?  Such a man should never even be allowed to _hold_ something so sharp, let alone actually _wield_ it.  But he had seemed so smug and confident that keeping such a dangerous weapon out of reach had slipped Izaya’s mind.

     Not that Izaya _liked_ anything like that, of course.

    “Then what _did_ you mean?  You’re not backing out already, are you?  I tried to tell you that I didn’t think you have the stomach for something like this; it can get a little _messy_ \--”

    With an annoyed sigh, Izaya shifted closer to the older man, pushing up the cat-eared mask that hid his face.  If he was going to be honest, he would admit that the mask hadn’t been his first choice--nor had it been his second, third, fourth.  But it hid his features adequately, and Tsukumoya had found it appallingly _cute_.  Izaya had ultimately given in, but not before making the compromise that Tsukumoya’s face would in turn be hidden by a disgustingly sweet, smiling panda.

    They were truly a fearsome (and entirely anonymous) duo.

    “Would I have brought something like this up if I didn’t know how messy it could be?” Izaya snapped, reaching for the knife despite himself.  Without even realizing it he had given up control of the situation the moment Tsukumoya took the blade into his hands.  He needed to take it back.

     “Look; you’re going to do it wrong.  A person like you is no good when it comes to these things, and even you should be aware of that fact.  What I was trying to say was simple enough, though you spout so much bullshit it’s a miracle you can even hear anything over the sound of your own voice.”  There was a soft, amused sort of _giggle_ that Izaya elected to entirely ignore.  “I actually know what I’m doing.”

    “So you’ve done this before?” Tsukumoya asked, bringing up one hand to cover the panda’s plastic mouth in mock surprise.  The effect was laughable, but Izaya was anything but amused.

    “What if I have?”

    “Oh, _please_ \--you were so excited when you even brought up the idea that I was worried you would start crying.  You can lie to as many people as you want, Orihara, but you can’t lie to me.”

    Another annoyed sigh.  Izaya pulled the mask back over his face, hesitating as to what to do next.  Having taken back the knife, he understood the task now fell to him.   _He_ was in charge; responsible for what would come next, and if he messed things up he knew he would never live it down.  

    It couldn’t be _that_ difficult, could it?

   The sharp tip of the knife pressed into soft skin, hovering almost delicately, leaving only the faintest trace behind.  But after the first cut there would be no going back, no fixing any mistakes he might make.  Not that he _would_ \--he was confident, surely, and in complete control.  There was no way he would screw things up, or--

    “Your hands are shaking.”

    “!”

    With a start the blade pierced through the thick flesh, leaving a lopsided, spiky sort of gash that was much larger than Izaya had wanted to make.  Annoyance bubbled up inside of him, threatening to sever what threads of self-control still remained.  His patience was further tested as he felt the presence beside him lean over, expecting his handiwork.  

    “I thought you said you knew what you were doing?  Should I give you a lesson on how to properly use a knife?  Maybe I should take over; I would feel responsible if you ended up cutting yourself.”

    “I _do_ know what I’m doing!” Izaya argued back.  Strange how he never seemed to notice how easily he took the bait.  “It’s _fine_ ; I can work with this.”

    “You can’t really shape that now, you know.”  Even with the mask in place, Izaya could tell the bastard was smiling.  

    “...You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

    “Mm?  I didn’t do anything, Orihara.”

    “...Fine.  I’ll carve a face into it, but it _won’t_ be the stupid one you suggested.  I’m going to make it scary, and I really don’t care if you like it or not.”

    “A jack-o’-lantern really _should_ have a face, though.  Designs are nice, but you did say you wanted what you called a ‘traditional’ holiday.  So in the end, does it matter what _kind_ of face it has?”   

    “...”

    “Happy Halloween, Orihara.”


End file.
